Pickup Truck
by LynnAgate
Summary: Alec walks Max home and shares more than just a bottle of Scotch with her before Logan shows up. Disclaimer: Dark Angel is owned by James Cameron and Charles H. Eglee. For entertainment purposes only.
1. Chapter 1

It had been a particularly easy day at Jam Pony, except not for Original Cindy and Sketchy, which is why Alec and Max had offered to buy them a couple beers at Crash. Incidentally, that was about the same time Original Cindy's luck had turned and she met Brie, a sweet and sexy blonde that had been avoiding all men since she had arrived.

Unfortunately, the same could not be said for Sketchy, who bravely had attempted to hustle pool and had consequently lost his paycheck. He tried to shake off the disappointment and had left around midnight.

Which left Max and Alec, alone, with each other and beer as company.

The conversation was relaxed, probably for the first time since they'd met. Alec had told her about one of his missions with Biggs, back when they were kids, and Max had laughed genuinely, no preconceptions or pressure or worry that anyone might have said how worthy she wasn't of happiness.

Outside Crash, Max zipped up her jacket and turned to Alec, stuffing her fists in her pockets.

"Where's your bike?" Alec asked, looking for her black Ninja and coming up shy.

Max looked up toward the unusually clear sky. "I walked here tonight. With a night like this, how could I not?"

Alec looked up, too, taking in the serenity of the pinhole stars so far away. "Can I walk you home?"

Max smiled. "What about your bike?"

Alec shrugged. "It'll still be here tomorrow. Besides, it's not safe for a beautiful woman to walk home alone so late at night, unarmed."

Max turned her body and tipped her head toward the direction she was walking, wordlessly accepting his invitation.

At first, their walk was quiet, both just enjoying the predominant silence of the city. Soon, the quiet would become uncomfortable, so Alec broke their silence. "Bet you never thought you'd have an armed bodyguard walking you home."

"Never thought I needed one, but it's nice of you to offer. What with all the guys with guns out here," she joked, calling attention to the loads of people that were nowhere in sight.

"Who are we kidding?" he started. "It was just an excuse."

She noted his truthfulness and peeked at him as they continued. She smiled again.

"You should do that more often."

"What? Smile?"

He relaxed in his gait, which came across as confidence, after which Max found she couldn't not smile.

They pushed forward, sneaking glances at one another, turning corners.

"You're always drinking at Crash. Have you ever been drunk?" From all the stories OC and Sketchy had told her over time, she was trying to imagine a drunken Alec, slurring and getting touchy-feely.

"Nope. Best I can get is teetering on the edge of buzzed."

"Hmm," she seemed to answer. "So why do you keep drinking? Isn't Scotch expensive?"

Alec jerked toward her, surprised. "You know my poison?" His question was met with just a smile. "I like the taste," he divulged, watching her upper lip as she unconsciously moistened it.

They continued for another minute. "How about you?"

Max watched his face. "Nope. Beer doesn't do anything for me. But," she sensed his follow-up questions, "sometimes it tastes pretty good, and besides, Cindy and Sketch like to unwind, so I figure, blend in."

"Ever tried Scotch?"

Max lifted an eyebrow. "Not yet."

"Next time we're at my place, I'll pour you a couple fingers."

She took a big breath. "Well, we're here."

"Already?" he asked, disappointed she didn't live just a little bit further from the cycler's bar.

Max toed the step with some anticipation.

"I was kinda hoping to talk a little more," Alec ventured.

Max backed off the step and looked up to her floor. It was dark. Maybe OC had gotten lucky. "I think I have some vodka if you want to come up. OC's probably out for the night." Max did not wonder what the hell she was doing. They'd had a pretty good night so far and she wasn't eager for the carefree feeling to end.

Vodka wasn't really his thing. "Sure," he said. "I'll tell you all about Biggsy's time with Lola."

Upstairs, the transgenics tossed their coats to the kitchen island. Alec peered out her window as Max pulled some glasses and a bottle from the cabinet. He took a deep breath. "Can't you smell it?" he asked.

Max poured the liquor into a couple of tumblers and walked toward him. "What? The rain?" she asked, slipping the tumbler in front of him. "Yeah, it'll downpour soon. Good thing you came up."

Erotic images of a drenched Max knocking at his door crossed his mind. Erotic images of making love to her in the rain crossed his mind. He closed his eyes on the off chance that they might spill out of his pupils.

Accepting the glass and looking down to it, Alec realized he was now holding a glass of Scotch. He smiled appreciatively, knowingly, and stared at her pupils as he brought the ale between them. "To the rain," he toasted.

Max smiled and clinked glasses, raising her glass to her own lips while holding Alec's stare. She accepted some of the amber liquid and tongued the roof of her mouth with it.

Alec waited for her response. She smiled, brought the glass down, and nodded.

"Before I chicken out," Max began, "I wanted to say thank you."

Alec sipped at his Scotch, savoring he flavor and letting it wash over his tongue. "What for?" he asked, certain that she hadn't needed an escort home, so her gratitude couldn't have been for their short walk.

Max shyly avoided his stare as she headed back to the kitchen island. "For everything."

Alec followed her back, surprised when Max set the tumbler down, pulled off her sweater, and draped it on the back of her kitchen stool.

"When I first met you, I thought you were just this oblivious Manticore perfect soldier with narcissistic overtones and no moral compass."

The sting of her words picking at his skin, he looked to his drink. If she was going to keep listing his faults, he was going to need way more Scotch. He gulped the remainder of his glass – taste be damned.

She hesitated. "But you've really stepped up. You're always there when I need you." She busied herself pouring them both a little more than a shot's worth of his favorite intoxicant. "I know I call on you a lot for missions, and whatever you're doing, you always come help me. I really appreciate that."

Alec swept the tumbler up to his lips. He wondered what happened to her that she was being suddenly overly nice.

"And." Again, she hesitated.

Alec drank a sip from his glass and walked around the island. "You okay?" he asked, when the silence had threatened to take over.

"Yeah," she said. "I just… wanted to say thank you for always listening."

Prior to tonight, he'd always feigned not listening because he liked the urgency with which she said his name when she thought he wasn't, and the most memorable time they'd both shrugged off the pretenses and connected was when she'd told him about Ben, so he was partly shocked that she had thanked him for 'always' listening.

Alec's voice carried some sadness. "You know I'll always listen to you."

Max nodded. "It means a lot to me and I'll never forget it," she promised.

Alec pulled her into a warm hug. "Doesn't mean I take orders," he said, trying to lighten the mood.

Max smiled and slapped him gently in the stomach, pulling away from him. She drank the contents of her tumbler.

Alec made his way back to the living room and took a draw from his glass. He settled himself on the couch, looking out into the city. Max followed him to the couch, bottle in hand, and just as the downpour began, the power went out, leaving them both in the dark, illuminated only by the bits of moonlight reflecting off of the rain. He watched as her silhouetted figure approached.

"Did you ever notice how some things are better in the dark?" she asked. "Like when you close off one sense, all of the others are heightened."

"No," he said flatly. "That's just the mind's projection, propagated by poets and musicians. You know as well as I do that our senses are perfectly sharp no matter how many of them are accessible at any given time."

Max scoffed. "I'll prove it," she said, taking a swig from the bottle.

Alec mirrored her, swishing the remainder of his Scotch and setting his glass down on the coffee table. "Are you challenging me?"

Max stood playfully still and smiled. The moonlit rain danced on her skin.

"Alright. I'm up to it."

As she tongued the rim of the bottle, Alec's eyes grew wide. "You sure?"

Suddenly, he was parched, but managed to cough out in agreement. His pupils dilated and he suppressed a groan.

"Okay, close your eyes," she instructed.

"What? I'm enjoying the show," he protested, looking from her eyes to her lips. The bottle was no longer held captive at them, yet he still felt entranced.

"Close your eyes," she pushed.

"Fine." Scooting forward on the couch and folding his hands like an apt pupil, he let his eyelids flit closed in some sort of defiance, and waited.


	2. Chapter 2

Max smiled a wicked smile she knew he couldn't see as a dangerous idea popped into her mind. "Tell me what you hear," she said. She took a swig from the bottle.

"I hear you drinking more Scotch," he said, his brows moving while, despite the fact his eyes were closed, he seemed to be trying to adjust his vision. "Obviously."

"What else?" She stood perfectly still, watching the shadow rain fall down his face.

Alec tilted his head slightly toward her. "The rain, falling like fingertips on skin."

Max stepped closer to him, the liquid in the bottle sloshing with her movement. She watched his hands rub against each other, seeing his fingers playing against themselves as if they were some imaginary piano. She gulped, wishing she could feel their warm music.

"You okay?" he asked, wondering what had caused her sudden swallow.

She figured he had heard her. She watched him, sitting as if frozen, statuesque, his angles and lines somehow making the room warmer, making her skin buzz. She followed the ripple in his long-sleeved t-shirt from the crew neck toward his bicep. The suggestion of his flexed muscle made her panic mentally. There were so many things his muscles could do to her. It made no sense logically, but she desperately wanted to trace all of his lines with her tongue.

The intent she focused on him sent a flurry of reciprocity through her mind. He could taste all of her curves, too. He could run his fingertips along her collarbone and down her shoulder and give her a gentle push on the skin between her breasts.

She removed her shirt, leaving her torso clad in just her bra. She lowered the top to the floor and let it crumple between them. She leveled a prowling set of brown, peppery eyes on him.

His brow quirked up on one side. "Is that a blanket?"

Max said nothing as she tiptoed around the couch, trying to be secretive.

But he heard that, too, she realized, because he turned his head toward her.

Setting the bottle on the floor gently, Max untied her shoes and removed them and her socks. Better to be barefoot if she wanted to be stealth, she recognized.

"Getting comfortable?"

Max watched his face to make sure his eyes were still shut before picking up the bottle. She tiptoed, this time barefoot, to the other side of him, leaned in a little, and asked, "What do you smell?"

Alec shut his mouth and breathed in a couple of little, shallow breaths. She wondered what those breaths might feel like on her skin. Would they be warm like puffs of steam, or cool like a thick fog rolling over the earth?

"The rain," his deep voice answered. "A little musky." He seemed to be intentionally drawing out his answer. She wondered what for, but stifled the question when his lips parted again. "I smell that vanilla stuff you use in your hair."

He knew it came from her shampoo, she realized, smiling.

"Cherry chapstick," he continued, imagining her applying the waxen material, imagining getting some of it applied to his own lips in transfer. His nose twitched a little and his mouth opened, causing his hands to come apart.

"What?"

He wasn't going to tell her he could smell her arousal. He hoped she couldn't see him very well in the dark, because he was pretty sure he was expressing a hungry look. "I can smell the Scotch," he tried to cover. "Can I have some?"

He looked like he was about to open his eyes, and Max wasn't ready for that just yet. "Okay, but keep your eyes closed. And no hands!" she batted his hands down. He settled them on his thighs.

From the side, she raised the bottle to his lips and he tilted his head back, gaining a significant mouthful. She pulled the bottle back and moved to stand in front of him. Clearly, he heard her move and focused his words in the direction of her face.

"Are you satisfied yet?" he asked.

"Nope," Max said, pushing him backwards by the chest with her free hand.

Alec's heart rate climbed. She was voluntarily touching him. On purpose. He wanted to open his eyes so badly. His back hit the couch pillow, which left him at an angle not entirely uncomfortable, but an angle at which he imagined Max's smiling face looming above him.

Except, the very second she straddled him, pouring herself into his lap and sinking down, his eyes rolled back beneath their closed lids. He raised his hands up about a foot, unaware of where to put them.

"Now, what do you feel?" she asked, squirming as her knees dug into the couch cushions.

"Max, I-" he tried, his hands waving slightly.

"Uh uh," she warned. "Remember? You have to keep your eyes shut." She scooted a little more forward, her thighs widening the further up him she climbed.

A pained look crossed his face. He wanted to open his eyes to help him interpret the situation, to see what her eyes were saying.

She took another breath. "What do you feel?"

Alec tried to calm himself. Very soon, the way she kept closing distance between them, she would know exactly what he felt. If this wasn't some kind of joke, though, then he wouldn't need his eyes to help him determine her intent. He let his hands fall to the couch, and with a purposefully diabolical smirk sneaking onto his features, he said, "it's not called the sense of feel, Maxie."

Max smiled. Of course he was trying to get more out of the situation. Finally, he was catching on. "Okay. What do you-" she paused, grinding into his lap, "touch?"

His hands found her knees, a move which surprised her in its suddenness and caused her to sharply take in some air, and slid up her thighs, clamping her down to his thighs. His champion smirk adorned itself to his face. He was undoubtedly imagining her face at this very moment.

"I touch," he started lazily, rubbing her jean-clad legs. "Strength."

Max inadvertently squeezed him with this 'strength' and he started to lose focus. The pressure of the act hardened him. He couldn't see it, but her pupils were dilating.

His hands crept up to her hips. "Curves," he continued, sweeping over her hips, his fingertips pulling her forward so he could squeeze her ass. He let his palms smooth over her hips again, drifting upward to the small of her back. His erection pulsed and he snapped his eyes open. "You're not wearing a shirt," he spat out before she raised her hand to his eyes.

"Eyes closed," she reminded, smiling.

But he had just seen an eyeful of Max. Her denim hugged the curve of her hip, and her hair fell partially over her breasts, which were covered only by her probably satin bra, he guessed, and she was straddling him pretty hard on the couch in her apartment – in which they were alone and in the dark on an increasingly sexy, rainy night.

She chose that very moment to grind into him again, rocking her hips forward, then back. Alec's hands swept back down to her hips, helping her rub against him, before drifting back up to the center of her back. Even if he had wanted to keep his eyes open, he involuntarily squeezed them shut from sheer pleasure, the act an instinct for which he was thankful, given that sensory overload might cause him to implode.

Alec mumbled incoherently as his hands stilled.

"Hmm?" she breathed in response.

He cleared his throat. "Skin," he said a bit more firmly. "How is your skin this soft?" he asked, letting his fingertips draw up her back, under the clasp of her bra.

Max let her head fall back as she pushed further into his lap, feeling, even through two pairs of jeans, how solid he had become underneath her. Her hair slipped over her shoulders, brushing against the backs of his busy fingers. Within the moment, she felt the bust of her bra loosen and his warm palms push up against her shoulder blades, pulling her back toward him.

With a tilted, flirty stare, which was wasted on him because of his closed lids, Max rolled one shoulder forward, the bra strap giving way to gravity. She pulled her elbow through it and let the whole thing dangle from her left shoulder for a moment before holding her arm out at a downward angle. The bra slid over the Scotch and fell quietly to the floor.

"Max," Alec grunted, licking his lips, but continuing to keep his eyes closed.

From his tone of voice, she thought he might be about to stop the progression of this challenge, and she really didn't want that. She really didn't want his hands to ever leave her body. Not before he brought them between them, against her. Not before he explored the kind of affect he was having on the hard bundle of nerves topping her breasts.

But he said nothing else, only breathed deeply, bringing his hands up between her shoulder blades and scooped his fingers around toward her collarbone, again, pulling her closer to him.

Max closed her eyes and let out a small murmur of lust. If he pulled her any closer, her nipples would dot against him, and if he pulled her any closer, she would lost complete control of her gross motor functions and pull his mouth to her by the scruff of his neck.

Tickling along her triceps, Alec's fingers followed the lean lines of her arms, out to her wrists, which for her left arm, meant his digits caressed closer to the bottle of Scotch. She pulled his left arm back down to her hip, where it (thankfully, for the time being) stayed. He turned his right palm to the front of her arm and let it wander back up toward her collar bone.

"Smooth," he said huskily, lavishing attention to the base of her neck. He pawed gently at the crook of her neck and shoulders, dove delicately into the hollow part of her collarbone, then slowly, torturously dragged his fingers between her breasts and over her abdomen, coming to rest at her hips.


	3. Chapter 3

He had slid his fingers on her chest everywhere except her breasts.

Max brought the bottle toward her bare chest, pressed the rim against her neck, and tipped the bottle, dragging it along her skin. She leaned back a little and set the bottle on the floor, feeling the liquid rush over her, exciting every pore, making her blush.

Alec was breathing harder with want, afraid to open his eyes for fear of this all being a dream or of Max suddenly coming to her senses.

"What do you taste?" she barely managed to ask before a drop of the Scotch slipped off her nipple and hit Alec's hand. He followed his first instinct and brought his hand to his mouth to taste the wetness. And when the stream of the intoxicating liquid seeped onto the tip of his other thumb, which had been at rest near her navel, he grunted, roughly pushed her backward by her hips, and folded over himself to close his mouth around the taut skin at her abdomen.

Glancing up at the ceiling, Max caught only a tiny disturbance of an engine revving outside as she succumbed to the oblivion he scored, his mouth partly licking, partly sucking, and partly kissing up her stomach, tasting the unique sweetness provided by the Scotch/skin combination.

Alec lost himself in the act, tracing a line up between her breasts with the tip of his tongue, hands splayed across her back as he worked toward her neck. The way his lips and tongue gently sucked at her neck made her shudder and try to open her legs wider to him, made her wonder if transgenics could get hickeys, and made her wonder what she was going to have to say to get his devouring attention to her breasts, which ached for his touch.

No sooner had she thought it than did he drag his lips down lazily and suck the peak into his mouth, massaging it until he was certain no trace of the liquor could be detected, until Max arched her back to him uncontrollably, until he heard her whimper impatiently.

When he smeared across to her other nipple, she moaned and clutched him to her by snaking her hands around to the back of his neck and lacing them through his hair.

Alec's tongue stilled and he moved his mouth away from her skin. All movement stalled. Max watched the look on his face move from flushed to confused. She pulled her palm along his jaw and used her thumb to trace the line of his eyelashes.

"Okay," she whispered.

It was the answer to a question he hadn't asked. He opened his eyes and took in the sight before him. Her silhouette seemed to be glowing, backlit from the moon and rain.

Max, wondered how moonlight could shine hazely-green, staring into him under heavy, lidded eyes. Every inch of her he hadn't seen with his eyes closed was burning. She needed skin on skin.

Tugging at his shirt, the twosome pulled the long-sleeved tee from his torso and Max pressed her nose into it for a moment, completely intoxicated by his scent, before tossing the garment over the couch.

Suddenly, it seemed they were face to face, unashamed, unabashed, baring themselves for the other to see. With surprising restraint and uncontrollable want, they held one another's gaze, Max raising her hands up his chest and around to the nape of his neck. She pulled herself forward, hesitating only when their faces were too close to keep their eyes open, before touching her lips to his.

She sat back immediately to stare in his eyes again. He held a furious need in his look, one simple kiss having begged another. He pulled her back to him, focusing his attention to her upper lip because God, he loved his bottom lip to be sucked. It was only a few seconds more before their mouths created a beautiful vacuum, awaiting the other's surrender.

It happened simultaneously, their tongues barely teasing one another, until Max tilted her head and pushed forward, opening herself up to him.

She tasted like the embodiment of contradiction, like honeyed Scotch, like freedom and restraint, all things which made him crazy with desire.

He wanted to satiate her, succumb to the perfect ambiance created by the moonlit rain, and taste every inch of her, commit it all to memory. He wanted to drown in her skin and endless, soulful coffee stare. He wanted to make love to her, to slide deep into her and never leave the warmth she was giving him, and make her scream out his name, to know no other word to describe her pleasure.

Max stilled her movements and stared, flushed, into him. His hands were warm at her hips again, and before he could cross the short distance to put his lips back on her, she backed off his lap.

Dumbfounded and confused, Alec watched her coy retreat, until she pulled at his hand for him to stand. Towering over her, he slipped a hand around her waist and leaned down to kiss her. Slowly, they kissed and he walked her backward, interrupted only by the pesky, almost mildewed wall.

Max broke their kiss and, again, pulled him by the hand toward her bedroom. Eyes wild with passion, he followed her in. She faced him, let go of his hand, and fumbled with the button on her jeans. Alec was transfixed on that button, as if it alone stood between him and tasting her completely. When she popped it loose and slid her zipper down, he returned his burning gaze to hers and stepped toward her.

Together, their hands smoothed the material over her curves, Alec feeling firsthand the cheeky panties she wore. Continuing down her legs, she wiggled her hips and smiles spread across their faces.

Free of restraints, Max slipped her fingers into his waistband as he led her to the bed. Max scooted back as he crawled over her, dipping his head along her neck and sliding his knee between her thighs. She managed to get his button undone before he sat back from her on his knees.

What a cruel universe, Max thought. They were almost completely naked and he was stopping her?

"Hang on," he said excitedly. He backed off the bed, grinning like a fool. "I gotta get something."

"Wait, Alec, what are you doing?"

Alec spilled into the living room, searching the floor for the discarded bottle of Scotch. Thousands of images he hadn't actually seen coursed through his mind of what she had looked like as he lapped the liquor from her body. "Where'd you put it?" he called back to her.

Max jumped off the bed and hurried out of the bedroom to find him. She stepped behind him and snaked her arms around his stomach, letting her fingers trace the definition his muscles created. She couldn't help but kiss his back as his arms and hands found hers.

Walking around in front of him, she bent down and picked up the half-empty bottle at the couch. Alec wished he could freeze the moment in time, watching the shadow drops pelt down softly on her back. But time moved on bringing Max back to him.

She rose up on her tip toes and kissed him again, pressing herself against his chest and letting out an appreciative purr. He let her left hand wander down him, her palm passing flatly past his jeans and boxers. She found her target, grasping his hardness and stroking down.

Alec groaned, pulsing under her gentle strength. He couldn't take it anymore. He was insane with desire, his hands smoothing over her back and under her until he was pulling her onto him, wrapping her legs around him.

"I want you inside me," she breathed huskily into his mouth.

His aching appendages screamed at him to get to the bed, but when she nearly screamed 'now', he immediately took them both to the floor. Max set the bottle aside and went back to work on his zipper.

Flicking his tongue at her nipple, her breast twitching with his sweet abuse, Max's fingers were easily confused. She tilted her heat back and hummed, 'don't stop' between heavy breaths.

With Max writhing beneath him, Alec moved up by her ear and flicked his tongue at her earlobe.

"Mmm, don't stop," she purred again, working his zipper down and reaching into his boxers again.

He groaned in her ear in approval, bringing his hand up to her breast and pinching her nipple.

"Don't… stop," she moaned loudly between breaths as he manipulated her peak.

In all the excitement, neither transgenic had heard the Ordinary until he kicked the door open, sending the broken knob sliding across the floor.

"Logan, what the hell?" Alec said, looking up at the cyber-journalist, who was very much the definition of a cock-blocker.

"Get off her!" he shouted, his heavy, whirring footsteps crossing the room.

Max arched her head backwards to see Logan's exoskeleton-covered foot sail between her and Alec, catching his face with a hard crack, sending him sideways off of Max.


	4. Chapter 4

In a panic, Max covered herself with one arm and reached out to the first piece of clothing she could find – Alec's crumpled long-sleeved tee. She slid it over her body, turned back to Alec and knelt at his side, pushing his too-big sleeves past her elbows and checking his bloodied face for the extent of his injury.

"Logan, what the hell are you doing here?" she yelled, craning her neck from Alec and leveling a murderous stare on Logan.

Alec was conscious and his face was starting to bruise and swell at the temple and cheekbone.

Staring down at the bleeding X5, Logan said, "If you get up, I'll fucking kill you." He tapped his right leg's exoskeleton. "Doesn't feel so good when you're not as strong as a machine, does it?" He trained his stare back on Max.

"What are you doing here?" she asked again.

"What do you mean? He was assaulting you!"

"He wasn't doing anything," Max spat, boring into his eyes. She stood and hurried to the kitchen. She grabbed a washcloth as Alec got to his feet. "I don't remember inviting you, Logan, so what are you doing here?" she repeated.

Logan watched as Alec zipped up and buttoned his jeans, not yet able to put it all together. He didn't understand why Alec wasn't already dead. Maybe Max was confused and that's why she hadn't snapped his neck, yet. "I came by because I had some information for you and I kept paging you but you weren't answering, so I thought you were in trouble."

"Yeah, but it's almost two AM," she countered, tossing the cloth to Alec.

"I thought you'd still be awake, but a couple of guys at Crash said you'd walked home. And when I got here, you were screaming 'don't' and 'stop'." Logan finally realized, after having said it out loud, what those two words meant when coupled with the image before him. Max was almost completely naked; Alec was about two seconds from losing his pants completely. Or maybe just partially.

And the whole of it enraged him further. "Max! How could you? With him!" It was a bitter mouthful for him to say at all. It seemed as if she was deliberately punishing him for being Eyes Only. It wasn't his fault Manticore found out about his secret identity.

Alec pressed he cool cloth to his cheekbone, testing its tenderness and checking for blood (which, he discovered, existed). His blood raced through his veins, turning from a lustful boil to a hot-tempered pump.

Max's face morphed into hard, angled lines. "Excuse me?"

"You're sleeping with Alec?" he almost shouted.

"That's none of your goddamned business!"

"Who's next? Ames White?" Logan stepped closer to the scantily clad brunette, a move Alec didn't like one bit.

Alec stepped between them. "You probably don't want to do that," he said, his jaw flexing as he grinded his teeth. He raised and lowered his hands in a push-down motion, trying to refrain from ripping Logan apart bit by bit.

"Oh, why? 'Cause you're gonna beat my ass?" Logan mocked. "Or slap my bitch face?"

Max wrapped her fingers gently around Alec's bicep, pulling him back toward her. He took a deep breath. "No, because if you touch Max, you'll trip the virus."

Logan stayed where he was, refusing to be intimidated. He peered around Alec at Max. "Max, you can't be serious," he started. "I mean, this guy's a liar and a cheat. You're being played." He thoroughly didn't understand how she couldn't see how little respect the male transgenic garnered.

Max let go of Alec's arm and stepped to his side. "No, Logan. I'm not being played. I invited Alec up here. Into my bed," she added, hoping he'd get the point.

"Are you in heat or something?" he asked, his eyes wild with trying to find some explanation for how she could have stooped so low.

Alec butted in, his voice steady with a scolding tone. "No, she's not in heat."

"And how would you know?"

He shut his eyes quickly. "Because I can smell her," he said bluntly.

Rebuffed, Logan frowned at Alec and turned his attention back to Max. "Max, you and me, we're supposed to be together, remember? It's supposed to be me kissing you. If you're longing for some human touch, I have the gloves."

Max's face twisted in disgust. What, did he think she wanted to wear a dental dam just to kiss him? Be finger-fucked by him for the rest of eternity? For now, she was having the most difficult time even looking at him.

She looked over to Alec, whose lean muscles smoothed over him and carried a slight sheen from their night so far. She had loved the desire she'd seen reflected in his eyes all night long, roaming over her body without control. She had loved his hands all over her, his lips, his tongue all over her. She had loved the way he said her name as if it was the only vocabulary which could encompass his passion.

Logan continued. "Don't you see? He's a fucking animal!"

Alec stepped forward, ready to snap this bespectacled douche's neck. "You call that an insult?" he started.

"Oh, don't tempt me,494," he mocked again. "She's only entertaining being with you because she can't touch me. You just happened to be the closest dick around on one drunken night."

Alec looked away with a fed-up grin. No one could talk about Max like that.

Logan, thinking he had bested Alec, glared triumphantly. Before Logan knew it was coming, Alec balled his hand into a tight fist with the cloth wrapped around it, and sent a right hook into Logan's cheek, simultaneously knocking the journalist's glasses askew.

Logan lost his balance and tripped toward the kitchen island. He caught himself on the barstool. "- the fuck, Alec?" he cursed, surprised. His lip was now bleeding from smashing so violently into his teeth. He regained his balance and raised his hand to his mouth.

He tongued something, pinched it and brought it out with his smooth fingers. It was a piece of a bloody tooth, which nearly shined in the shadows. Shocked, he looked at Max, expectantly, and held the tooth bit up in her line of vision. "You gonna let him do that?"

Max crossed her arms. "Get out."

"Max, I just got my teeth kicked in. Isn't that proof enough that he's an animal?"

Nevermind that we're both X5, which makes us both animals, she thought. "What the hell were you thinking?" she scolded Logan. "Baiting an animal like that?"

Logan righted his glasses and with sincerity, said, "I was thinking of you, Max."

"No, you were thinking of yourself."


End file.
